


we were born into this

by santsii



Series: make it sweet, make it count [1]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst and Porn, Brother-Sister Relationships, Codependency, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fucked Up Feelings, God Complex, Porn with Feelings, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 00:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santsii/pseuds/santsii
Summary: Dee and Dennis are alone together for the first time since they each left for college. They've both changed.Dee muses on personal space, godhood, and choices.





	we were born into this

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to haemophilus for always being super supportive of my writing. I hope you enjoy this rarepair.
> 
> I'm on my phone the screen is cracked to shit making typing very hard so I will correct stuff as I find it like always. Please let me know what you think of my trash.
> 
> Also I would like to note that this is Dee and Dennis in their mid 20s. 1st season Dee is much different, so I'd imagine younger Dee, while still Dee, hasn't found her steel yet. I'm looking into what molds her. Also I'm weirdly proud of this. D: that hasn't happened since Ravaged.

Dee is somewhere between sleep and thought when she feels the mattress shift beneath her. Feels his limbs snake around her, the press of his bare torso against her thread-bare top, the only barrier against his solid warmth. He murmurs something into her hair, but Dee doesnt need to hear his words. She feels his every intention wrapped tightly around around her. It's familiar, though. The odd sensation of intrusion and belonging. 

She tries to shift, but he's got her pinned against him, limbs wrapped around her like some unholy sea creature, and she hadn't expected it.

Years had passed since Dennis took to her room. College had been a time for both of them to grow and grow they did. Apart, she thought. Her backbrace fell away, and strangely, Dennis with it. And it had been so good. A type of freedom that seemed wild and impossible. 

The pads of his fingers trail feather light under her shirt. Ghost the small shelf of each rib, just stopping beneath the swell of flesh above. Dee knows he's memorizing her now. Like he did the night before they went their separate ways. But every curve and dip is new to him now. Almost as new as it is to her, all too alien and foreign. She can tell it disturbs him. It isn't supposed to be like this. 

It's been a long time since they've seen eachother, let alone shared a space so small. She doesn't know if intimate is the right word. Can't think of this as the closest she's been with more than just a body.

They've been away, living their own lives and drinking and flunking out of college. _A glorious failure he would say later, the best, with a baleful look in his eyes. _Now he blames her for his own failing. Dee wasn't there, so his un wholeness had been his downfall- his achilles heel, and _herfault,herfault_. He's always sure to reinforce their roles. Her role. 

_Archetype, Deandra. Godhood._

She almost forgot, truly. Every blur of a night, every well intentioned blackout served a specific purpose. Forget him. Burn him up. She watched the both of them, their bond, that wretched thread that joined their hearts sizzle and snap in the dormitory blaze. _Copyingmeyougodamnbitch copycatcopycat_. Like twins. Like twins. Like wholeness. 

But after she left the psychiatric hospital, she put every little peice back together and formed herself into something human enough to have a friends, even a _boyfriend she told Dennis earlier over dinner. _She suspects that's why he came tonight. The distance had been too much, too many lessons unlearned, and Dennis wouldn't be making that mistake again. Not ever. 

"Babygirl," she thinks hears him, rather feels it at the nape of her neck where his lips don't move. His other hand came up to push away and knot in the yellow strands. The touch felt cool, a contrast against the dry warmth of his lips and cheek pressed there. If Dee saw bodies tangled like this in a movie, she thinks it would look sweet. Something she wants. 

_Want_ and the way it's always been (fearinyourthroat) are divorced by a line she's not sure ever existed. 

Yet even so, she's pliant as the pads of his fingers finally move to trace a line between the valley of her breasts. His touch is so light, so sweet, the skin tightens. She feels a searing heat shoot down her spine and pool low in her belly. 

And he shivers then, it's a barely noticeable thing. But his body belongs to her in a way. He gave that to her without meaning to. Without permission, and she finds that's some small consolation. The way she's always been the closest he's ever come to undone. She can feel it in him now, the way his skin can't even contain him. Tells herself that's her power, that God power he talks about, wild eyed and focused. Tells herself that very power is why she never said no. (_not because he never asked her, not the first time or anytime after_) 

"babygirl" he says it this time. This time she's sure he actually said it, that she didn't just think it. Or worse, hear him think it. When he says it his voice lilts and breaks just at the end. His palm is warm and wide just below her breast, the outline of his thumb and forefinger a border around where she grew up without him.

"Look how you've grown," He says, feels him grin wide and feral, and she thinks he must hear her. In her mind her wrists are bound, but she flexes her fingers and reminds herself she's here. 

She doesn't respond. Once, Dee used to try and her words would turn to water in her throat. Panic would grip her, but Dennis would hold her against it, through it. Her sickness and her cure. She doesn't speak anymore when they're like this. Saves her fire for when she isn't bare skinned and vulnerable. When his iron grip isnt around her and he could snap her in half. (like those god damn crows) Some shapeless part of her knows he likes it better that she doesn't speak, that it's just as likely he would never come to her again like this as it is he would break her. Maybe those are one in the same. She never mourned the loss of her selfhood, if that was a choice she had in the first place. 

The press of his grin is like cold knives against the delicate skin of her throat. _Predatory_, they call him. Some formless dark space inside cackles. (Wrath and hellfire and Damning them all. Everytime some stupid girl cornered her with teary eyes and asked questions like idiots. Of course, it's Dennis. Seething. _Glee_. ) 

They don't know it started with her. 

Dee tilts her head back, the hand that was in her hair wraps around her throat and up to span her jawline, turning his head so his mouth is on her pulsepoint. They are a singular beat. He breathes in, the rush of warm air feels like hellfire and home.

"Do you know how much I missed this? Have you missed it too?"

She nods, sharp, unsure if she knows what it means to miss anything, if he does.They're good at fooling themselves into human feelings. _Monsters_. And then she's glad she learned to stop feeling. 

"Good girl." Dennis breathes out and inhales, baring his teeth against her skin. The way he says it sends another bolt down her spine, to her swollen core. Stars crest behind her eyelids. Makes her clench right at the apex of her thighs and where her shame is a living thing. It's horrible how easy it is for him. 

"You gotta leave him, sis. It's not right." Dennis says low, nearly snarling, still not crossing that line to touch her where he really wants to. And she's so close already. And this is different. They have changed. Or maybe just her. That hits her so hard it barely registers. Dee doesn't understand. It feels like he's playing with her. But that's what Dennis does, he plays with people instead of things. It's fucked up in the way that it's okay as long as she's his favorite. Doesn't remember when she started to feel that way, if it was her thought or his.

"Dee", He says with just a touch of something dangerous. The points where he touches her go from feather light to an iron cage around her jaw and torso, turning her face to him. He rises to meet her eyes. 

Her throat is suddenly dry, a direct contrast to the slickness between her legs, and bites down a moan. She feels sick inside. It's not fair, never was. It's not that she even likes the guys she's with. She never does, but none of them are Dennis. Thats always been enough. Her only power. 

( She's too young to know that Dennis has already figured this out. Her out. Taken it from her. That he will find other ways to get what he wants from her, and they will be so subtle that she'll think it's her own failings, and hate herself for it. How angry, furious she'll be when she looks back and realizes- mourns the loss of the only time he gave her a choice. Her way or his. The first and only time he's ever asked her anything. Giving her as much of a choice as Dennis is capable of giving. They both know in some horrible, shapeless shadow they share, that it's all because he loves her. )

Still, true to form, Dee doesn't respond, and so he claims her space. Devours her mouth. Eats up all her answers and chances at protest and anything she could ever say that isn't made for him. (And she's learning from the best of them. How to shed her humanity and that Godhood can be a searing thing. That there are more ways than one to burn something away.)

Like this Dennis is whole. He's told her about his God-hole. He's also told her about Romulus and Remus. About Artemis and Apollo. And she feels his hole, too. Wonders if maybe if it's her own and she gave it to him. It's the only thing they'll ever share that's real, and that's the realest thing they'll ever know, even outside of eachother. If there ever was such a thing. 

He uses his arm that's snaked around her waist to flip her on her back. Both of his knees are pinned on either side of her hips. His wide, warm hands skim beneath her shirt, and peel it off her body in one fluid, furious motion. It's then that she catches his eyes, and the animal there he's so careful to control. Towering over her, undone and savage and bare as she is.

"I can't believe I've missed this." He growls, devours her with his eyes, takes in every inch like she's god herself and she's never seen him so monstrous. It makes her feel heady and weightless. 

She thinks it's strange how light he's been with her, like some ghost of who he was. His hands were always strong, vicelike demanding things. Always tore at her clothes and body like she was a gift wrapped just for him. Something is there behind his eyes she's never seen before; two blue bruises peering out from a storm. His palms brush the sensitive peaks of her nipples. Up her throat, and back down to the rib cage that holds her heart and the living thread there joined with his. His movements have purpose, every plane and dip that wasn't there before is a photograph in his mind. His sense. She sees how hungry it makes him, and she flushes, needing. 

He swallows audibly. Dennis is angry, she realizes. Dee has been a late bloomer. Didn't develop into anything womanly until college. She hasn't seen him since then, when he had every dip and slight swell of her flesh memorized. Even then, he'd been ravenous for her. She was his. (didn't know he liked to imagine he was hers) 

But the last few years, Dennis hadn't been there, and others had. Hands that weren't his, mouths that weren't his, and she had never been so afraid as she is now. Not since the first night, when she thought prom was her biggest worry and learned what it's like to drown beneath a body you love, and have no say in whether or not it's okay. 

So she breaks form, she speaks because Dee is not who she used to be, learned little enough of what it is to be a person to feel the joint that held them fracture. 

"I don't belong to you." the words come out, and they don't sound like her. It's Dennis in her voice, speaking through her. It's his spectre, his words, but the words are coming from her lips. Like so many things he's taught her. She wonders if she's had such an impact on him. 

His eyes flash and he's bending down to place treacherous wet kisses along the pale column of her throat. Then he's biting her, teeth sinking into the meat of her neck, her breasts, _mine_ the marks say. Demanding hands, strong hands, on her belly and between her legs, and then he's her pinning her down with his hips. Can feel his hard length, can feel him fumbling madly to pull her panties to the side. In one swift motion he frees himself and pushes past, into her tight warmth with wreckless abandon, senses gone. It burns and he groans, so deep and guttural she can feel that too. Can feel the vibration of it all the way through her core. It carries her forward. Hes larger than she remembers, like he's grown too. There's a spike of jealously- but short lived at the heated burn of him. Like he's ripping her apart, the spread too much to bear. Like he's always been. 

It isn't fair any of it. The way he gives her no time to adjust. How that doesnt stop the build of something dreadful and immeasurable and full that she only feels with him. How his hips snap with such singular focus, intent. They say _Mine. Mine. Mine_. And she gasps, eyes closed, afraid to look. Knowing he's looking at her like he's never looked at anything in his life. 

But his skin can't contain him, and just like every time before hes wretched and wild and undone. He's savage with her, pulls her up right and tight against him, tries as hard as he can to crawl inside of her, buries himself. 

So, she let's him, pliant. Never gives him the satisfaction of fighting, of response or rejection. But this time he can't take it. 

She feels warm wetness on her neck, his breathes are coming hard and heavy, fingers digging paths down her back, desperate, and suddenly she gets it. 

She brings her arms up to hold him. Rocks against him, pushing herself to adjust, meeting his pace. The intensity like nothing she's ever known. Feels the place where they meet flutter and constrict and swell and she falls over the edge of it. Feels his girth pulse inside of her, his heart beat matched to hers. (their painfully human hearts) And it's different this time, so different she finds herself leeching out every bit of warmth from him to chase the cold of her thoughts away. 

"You're mine, Dee." He chokes, voice different from before. All broken sounding, his face wet, still buried in the crook of her neck, shoulders quivering. He's strong. All sinewy muscle, tall, and built like the God he wants to be, thinks she is. And it's all python wrapped around her, like she's the one holding him up. She nods against his neck, her hand coming up to thread through his curls. 

It's a different sort of fear, the ball of dread inside her now. She wonders if what she felt the first time was really fear after all. 

_It's oddly comforting _she muses holding her brother, and for the final time, mourns the death of the choice she never had . 


End file.
